My Husband Stole My Pregnancy Money to Buy His Dream Girl a Purse

In the heavy silence, I closed my eyes and listened to Daniel mutter curses under his breath.

The mattress dipped as he sat down, studying the cold sweat on my forehead.

"Here. Got you something."

He tossed something onto my chest, jostling my surgical site.

I opened my eyes to see Daniel looking down at me smugly.

"It's a vintage designer bag—way nicer than anything you could afford before. Don't worry, now that I'm moving up in the company, I might buy you the real deal if you play your cards right."

I picked up what was obviously someone's old castoff.

When I opened it, I found a hair elastic tangled with strands of bleached hair.

The cheap knockoff reeked of desperation and humiliation.

Without hesitation, I hurled the grimy bag across the room.

"Keep your garbage. I don't want it."

Daniel watched his "gift" hit the wall and jumped up from the bed.

"Don't be such a bitch! Who do you think you are, some trust fund princess? Get over yourself."

A bitter laugh escaped my throat as I pressed my hand to my empty womb.

"How do you know I'm not?"

Daniel stared at me like I'd lost my mind.

"If you had money, would you have lived on ramen with me for three years? Would you have given up everything to help me build my career?"

I met his gaze steadily. After his cruel words, something seemed to dawn on him about everything I'd sacrificed.

"Look, enough drama. Wendy and I are just friends—practically family. Besides, her connections are helping my career. Can't you think about what's best for our future?"

He reached for my hand like he was doing me some grand favor, but the impatience in his eyes gave away his true feelings.

I wanted to slap that smug look right off his face, but I was too exhausted—too drained to do anything but sleep.